O, Mr Barrie?
by Andi Horton
Summary: Jane converses with a neighbour the morning after her return from Neverland.


_Once there were two little girls who sat up in their beds long after the stars came out, watching an open window in hopes of catching the glimpse of that perfect playmate._

_This story is dedicated to the other one._

O, Mr. Barrie?

In a respectable house on a fairly respectable Bloomsbury street, there had once lived a family whose name had been Darling. In this family there had been a Father and Mother, and three not-too-naughty children, of whom two were boys and one was a girl. They had also in their employ one girl servant, and one nursemaid. The latter was, admittedly, of the canine species, but she was one of those who may be said to be of a breed of nursemaids superior to most of those who are of the species _Homo_, and so we may freely admit that she was quite a gem indeed. What all this means, in case you are not quite up to form in your maths yet, is that the happy occupants of the Darling home were seven in number.

The household had existed in this numerical state until the eldest child, the girl (whose name, we find it worth the time to tell you, was Wendy) had been almost of an age where parents consider moving one out of the nursery, and into a grown-up room. But they had not quite reached that point when a rather terrible thing happened- the children were taken from their nursery whilst their parents were out at a party, and spirited forcibly away to a sort of Neverland.

Oh, all right, they actually left home quite of their own free will. But I think that a terrible thing to write of children who are not children any longer, but quite grown up, so I will make excuses for them as I see fit. In fact, a rather mischievous imp of a boy whose name we are told (and so must believe) is Peter Pan, may have had something to do with the enticement of them, and so we are more than happy to forgive them.

Upon the children's eventual return, they brought with them six more children, all of them boys (Wendy might have here begun to feel rather outnumbered) and so the total of the Darling household climbed in number to a rather grand and breathtaking tally of thirteen. So it remained until the nursemaid passed on, and the children, one by one, graduated from their secondary school and went on to do intelligent things to benefit all humanity. We only wish we were of the time and space to relate these, but this story is not about them, so we shall not dally long over persons who are not the protagonists lest we steal some glory away from those who are.

It was when the house was on the point of relinquishing yet another occupant, so its total should have dwindled to a mere nine, that a smaller, though still quite respectable, home just around the corner from them was purchased.

Number three had been, for as long as Wendy could remember, in the possession of a rather crotchety old maiden aunt. At least, I shall presume her to have been an aunt, since elderly women who resemble pink and white teacakes and knit incessantly are usually in possession of at least two or three adorable nieces, and more often than not a naughty little nephew or two as well. Now, however, it had passed into the ownership of a somewhat comely young fellow whose surname, the baker's boy had informed the curious Wendy, was Barrie.

Mr Barrie was not overmuch older than Wendy, but there were a few extra years to him, this we know, for he had the bearing of an introspective young man. And young men, as you know, are not want to become introspective until they have lived for at least five and twenty years, and Wendy had then lived only eighteen. So as soon as it was decent, in the company of the servant girl Liza (who was not so much a girl anymore) Wendy took herself and a large plum cake to the doorstep of Mr Barrie, in an endeavour to discover more about him. Mr Barrie, she was to learn, did not have much about him to discover. He was an ordinary, decent-mannered chap who shaved regularly and went to church each Sunday. Wendy, disappointed, did not call again until she had married, and went then only because Mr Barrie's mother had passed on.

By and by, Wendy's husband purchased what had until then been the Darling household from Wendy's father, and moved himself and his wife, who was expecting their first child, into it. It was this way that their daughter, Jane, spent a great deal of her growing up years with Mr Barrie living around the corner from her. Jane had always greedily drunk in her mother's stories of her adventures with Peter Pan, and often related them to any passers-by who cared to lend her an ear. Mr Barrie was not entirely intolerant of children, even though he was far nearer forty than thirty by now, and it was most often this politely disinterested gentleman who heard all about Wendy's exploits with that impudent, rascally youth, Peter Pan, from the latter's most over-generous admirer, little Jane Dalton.

It was when Jane was eight years of age that she had herself the dubious privilege of meeting Peter for herself, for that careless little fellow had thought it time to come and pick up Wendy to do his spring-cleaning for him. Of course he had lost track of time, and since Peter himself never grows up, it never occurred to him that Wendy had been obliged to do so herself, and begin doing all sorts of grown-uppish things, such as having daughters— namely Jane. But she had, and so Peter had been inconsolable until Jane had willingly obligated herself to the post of Peter's new mother, and gone whirling off with him to Neverland. There they both had a delicious lot of adventures with a variety of new Lost Boys before Jane had come home, tired but pleased, fatigued, and well-nigh deliriously happy.

'Tis on the very morning following Jane's return that we join her now, where she is busily attempting to hang off the little iron gate at the end of the walkway that leads to her front door. I suppose to be fair I should explain that, while it is a little enough gate to me, to Jane, who was only eight, it was still quite large— even after all she had seen and done in Neverland.

She had just managed to stick the toes of her shoes through the bars, and was teetering there uncertainly, when Mr Barrie could be seen walking down the lane. He was on his way to pay a call on a neighbour, whose small boy had thrown a rock at Mr Barrie's cook's cat and scared her well nigh to death. Jane, in her excitement at seeing him, quite forgot about balancing and gripped the fence-posts for dear life as she view-hallooed him in true, approved English fox-hunt fashion.

"Good morning, Jane," Mr Barrie replied, quite calmly indeed for a man who need for no intents nor purposes expect to be view-hallooed as he minds his own business on a respectable London street. "And how is the day for you?"

"Simply lovely, thank-you, Mr Barrie," Jane said enthusiastically, and here she would have jumped for joy, had her toes not been stuck 'twixt the fence-bars, forcing her to content herself with several energetic wiggles.

"That's fine, then," Mr Barrie approved, and should have passed by altogether than had Jane not called out once more.

"O, Mr Barrie? Aren't you going to ask me how I have been?"

"Very well, Jane," Mr Barrie smiled, for he was not unused to the eccentricities of the young, "how have you been?"

"I have been lovely, Mr Barrie, thank-you ever so much. And you?"

Mr Barrie admitted that he was quite well at the time, and again tried to pass. Again, however, Jane summoned him back.

"O, Mr Barrie? Don't you care to ask me what I have been doing?"

Now, although some might think her forwardness somewhat appalling, I will hasten to reassure those people that it was not. Jane, aside from being a child who was quite pleasant to look upon, had a pretty manner about her that rendered all peregrinators quite helpless. You, I assure you, would also fall in the face of those great, blue eyes and the silky golden curls, which she had a fetching manner of shaking about her ears vigourously just when she was at her most earnest. So Mr Barrie, who was no more immune than the next person, enquired solicitously as to what Jane had been doing to keep herself occupied as of late.

"Flying," Jane replied promptly, and could not help but give herself a small hug of glee at the delicious memory. The result of this action was, of course, that she promptly tumbled over backwards, off of the gate, and should have promptly hit the ground but for a very curious thing.

At the very last second, just as it seemed she should strike her head against the walkway stones, Jane's fall was brought to an abrupt halt by— what? As far as Mr Barrie could see, nothing whatsoever. Yet when Jane should have been lying motionless on the ground, blood spilling about every whichway, she almost seemed to hover lightly as she tugged her feet free from the gate and stood herself up again to face Mr Barrie once more.

"How did you—" Mr Barrie seemed curious in spite of himself.

"I told you," Jane giggled with the innocent, naughty delight every child gets at baffling a grown-up, "I've been flying. I have gone to Neverland, you see, to visit Peter. And of course the Lost Boys, and the fairies, and the mermaids and the new pirates who had just dropped anchor before I arrived. They'd heard, you see, about Peter, and their captain had a mind to challenge him to a duel."

"And did he?" Mr Barrie found himself asking.

"Of course!" Jane's eyes sparkled at the memory. "And Peter accepted, naturally. Oh, Mr Barrie, I do wish that everybody could have been there to see it. He was really quite grand. I always knew he was, of course, but it is something quite different when you actually see it for yourself."

"He— won, then?" Mr Barrie was now not even blushing at his curiosity, which Jane seemed to accept as no more than Peter's due.

"Oh, rather. Peter's the very best swordsman who ever was— or, so he says, and I rather think it's true. But Mother," and here there was a wistful sigh, "says I mustn't let him get above himself or I'll never get him back down. Mother," she explained confidentially, "is quite terribly jealous."

"I see." Mr Barrie lied shamelessly. "She is jealous of— Peter?"

"No, of me." Jane explained, seating herself on the inside of the gate in true, approved story-telling fashion (no mind what her nurse should have said, seeing Jane and her skirts in an unladylike heap upon the cobbles).

"You?" Mr Barrie found he was reaching out towards the gate-latch before he could stop himself.

"Me." Jane confirmed. "You see, she is too old to come anymore, since when you grow up you forget how to fly, and you must be able to fly to get to Neverland, unless, of course, you are a pirate, and so may use your ship. I rather think," Jane added, speaking mostly to herself at this point, "that all pirates have some sort of idea where Neverland is. Perhaps Mother might book passage with them. I shall speak to her of it at a later date."

Mr Barrie advised her to do so.

"Quite," Jane agreed with indifference. "Now, what had I just been saying? Oh, yes. Mother wishes she could go back to Neverland, because of all the tremendous things that happen there. Why, I do believe I could easily have gone through ten pairs of shoes in that week alone, had I decided to wear them. But you see, I didn't." And here she whipped off shoe and sock to reveal brown toes with telltale scrapes and scratches. Mr Barrie was quite amazed, and did not even realise that he had shut the gate behind him, and joined Jane Indian-fashion on the walk.

"However did that happen to you, my dear?" he asked anxiously, for although none of the cuts had become infected, several looked quite deep, and a few were almost suspiciously clean-edged.

"Well, most of them were from climbing about on the island, of course," she explained. "But this one here, and that one, and that, were all from the pirates."

"Pirates!"

"Yes, pirates. You see, I'd an idea that Peter had gone to accept the captain's challenge, and I was quite upset to find his bag lunch on the table, for of course a boy cannot fight on an empty stomach, so I took it and attempted to find him."

"And he was on the pirate ship?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Peter had simply gone out for a walk, and maybe to get some coconuts, but he'd not told me of it and I was quite sure by then that he was on the ship. So I waited until some pirates came ashore for provisions, sneaked into their rowboat, and stowed back out to the ship. Imagine my surprise, when I found Peter was nowhere to be seen!"

Jane was still slightly indignant, but Mr Barrie, who had a special way with ruffled ladies, smoothed her down nicely and begged her to continue.

"Well, 'twasn't long at all before the pirates found me— I'd packed fish for Peter, you see, and once it's been in a bag for a time it gets quite rank. The captain couldn't abide fish, so once he'd smelled Peter's lunch it was only a matter of time."

"Quite," Mr Barrie agreed somewhat diffidently. "And what happened, once they'd found you?"

"Well, I flew away up to the crow's nest, but as I went over their heads, three of those of them who were tall enough for it took a nick or two at me with their blades, so I picked up these ones, here, that I've shown you."

"They look rather painful," Mr Barrie said sincerely. "Did it hurt you terribly?"

"Oh, not even. I was too busy trying to figure out how I was to escape such a dreadful mess. You see," Jane said with beguiling honesty, "I'm not yet quite so good at flying that I may set off at a moment's notice over great distances, and the ship was anchored some way out from the island, so I dared not try it. In fact, the pirates were coming up after me, with a mind to hold me there until Peter arrived, when Peter and a few of the Boys showed up, and there was a great heave-to. The upshot of it was, Peter won out, and then it was time for me to come home to Mummy and Papa as I'd done about all the spring-cleaning I could with them."

"I see." Mr Barrie said, slightly dazed by this impressive narrative. "Well, I'm most glad you suffered no ill-effects from what must have been a very trying ordeal, and I do hope you continue in a sound constitution, Miss Jane."

"Thank-you ever so much, Mr Barrie," Jane smiled sweetly. "And I do so hope that your day goes well. Shall I see you tomorrow, and shall I tell you then something else that happened whilst I was in Neverland?"

And Mr Barrie said he rather fancied that she would, and that he thought she should. Then he doffed his hat politely to her, as any well-heeled gentleman does to a lady, and wished her a very fine day before leaving her yard.

He went back home, then, neighbour's boy and cook's cat quite forgotten in the far greater excitement of the simple faith of a child, and the enjoyment that one may always take in an adventure, no matter what his age might be.


End file.
